


Another Time Around The Wheel

by helsinkibaby



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: casestory, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Het, Rewriting Canon, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny knows that Frank is dead, after all, she helped to bury him. Then she wakes up one morning not only to find him very much alive, but with her head full of dreams that seem to foretell the future. Armed with this knowledge, can they eliminate the threat against Macey? And how does Jenny have this knowledge in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Time Around The Wheel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for' Another Time Around the Wheell'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184652) by [stormbrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbrite/pseuds/stormbrite). 



> So there were a lot of unhappy Sleepyheads after the midseason finale in season two. One of the posts that I saw on defendingabbie.tumblr.com (which I thought I'd saved but hadn't) basically said that as far as they were concerned, season three should basically rob from _Dallas_ and they should have Jenny waking up one morning to find Frank in the shower, alive, staring at her and wondering why she's so shocked to find him there. (The original post was way better.) I saw that post when casestory sign ups went live and thought, "I can work with that."  
>  Thanks to defendingabbie for letting me run with idea, and beatsparksodapop for reading it and telling me it didn't entirely suck!

Jenny woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed with her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Closing her eyes, she told herself firmly that it was just a bad dream, nothing to be afraid of, and she should certainly have known because in her life, she'd had plenty. 

This one, though? This one was one of the worst, because it was a memory. 

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she opened her eyes, sure that that would calm her; after all it usually did. But when she opened her eyes, her breath caught and her jaw dropped and she looked around her in stunned disbelief. She knew this room, knew it very well but this was not the room she'd fallen asleep in the previous night. She looked left and right, holding the bedclothes across her chest, realising as she did so that she was naked. 

"What the..."

She stood up slowly on shaky legs, found a shirt - one she recognised, a man's shirt, plain and white, made to be worn under a suit - tossed haphazardly on the floor beside the bed. Pulling it on she made her way to the hall, swallowing hard when she heard the unmistakable sound of a running shower coming from the bathroom. 

Each step down the hall was an effort and she saw her hand, like it belonged to someone else, reaching out and pushing open the bathroom door. As she did so, the shower shut off and she heard a voice that she'd thought she'd never hear again, humming along to some oldies song that he liked listening to, the kind of song that she teased him about and swore that she'd never heard in her life. The shower door opened a crack and a hand came out, grabbed a towel from the rail and as Jenny stared, because she knew that hand, knew it intimately, the shower door opened and Frank Irving walked out, hale and hearty and very much alive. 

"Frank?"

All Jenny could manage to do was say his name, but he didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. He just smiled at her, that smile that she'd first seen when she'd asked him to Thanksgiving at Abbie's, that smile that he'd given her right after she'd promised him that they'd be civil to one another for one night only, and then she'd go back to stealing from him. "Good morning, beautiful," he said, looking her up and down, a look on his face of definite appreciation. He'd always had a weakness for her in his shirts and nothing else. "I wasn't sure if you'd be up so soon... you were tossing and turning most of the night." He took another towel from the rail, rubbed it over his head and shoulders and she stared and stared at him, looked him up and down, studied his torso, glistening with water but not a mark on it. 

No scars from Moloch's blade, but she could see so clearly the wound, the blood on the battlefield...

"See something you like?" 

He was teasing her and she dragged her gaze up to his face, to his  faltering smile, a frown just starting to form...

And she blinked and he was in front of her with a black eye, bruises on his face, sitting behind glass in the local jail because a lot of the guys he'd put there were out for revenge and even if they weren't, cops weren't popular in prison. She'd only gone to see him once; he'd told her not to come back, that he didn't want her to see him like that...

Strangely enough, that had been their only fight. 

"Jenny?"

There was definite confusion in his voice and she blinked again and his face was once again unmarked, though his frown had become deeper, more pronounced. 

"Jenny!"

That was said with alarm and she knew why too, because her legs had seemingly decided that that was a good time to give way beneath her and her hand shot out of its own accord, grabbing for the sink in an effort to keep herself upright. He was quicker though, moved faster than she would have thought possible, his arms going around her waist, holding her up. 

"I've got you."

She heard his voice as if from very far away but she was in his arms, her head against his shoulder and she could smell the shower gel he always used and fainter, the fabric softener from the towel but mostly she could smell him, the scent that her brain had tagged as uniquely Frank. Her arms moved slowly, one around his neck, one around his back, holding him tightly and she knew she was shaking but she just couldn't stop. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, breathed him in and when she opened her eyes again she was surprised to find they were full of tears. 

"OK?" he asked and she wasn't sure if he was asking how she was feeling or if she could stand on her own, but to either the answer was a resounding no.  She was loath to move but he was the one who pulled back a little so that he could look down at her, look into her eyes. "You want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked quietly, a hint of a smile on his lips even if his eyes were serious, concerned. "Because while I'd like to think it was the sight of my fine self that made you weak at the knees..." 

Once again, she saw her hand moving, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Frank..." 

It was all she seemed to be able to say and she shook her head, something somewhere suddenly moving her into action. She pressed her lips to his, kissed him fiercely, winding both arms around his neck and pulling him as close to her as she could. For a moment, he didn't respond but only for a moment, then he was pulling her close to him, his hands reaching between them, sliding up and under the shirt she was wearing, slipping it off her shoulders. It was an easy matter for the towel slung loosely around his hips to fall to the floor, and then he was lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist and she was dimly aware that he was moving them down the hall, back towards the bedroom. She only realised that properly when they ended up on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs, and he was moving over her, inside her, dragging sensation and exclamation from her with each touch and thrust and she couldn't close her eyes, couldn't stop looking at him, was afraid that if she did, she'd wake up and he'd be gone. 

A long time later his fingers  traced lazy patterns up and down her back as she lay pressed against his side, her hand on his chest. His other hand reached up, touched her cheek and brushed back some tendrils of hair. "You ready to tell me what that was all about?" he asked her, his tone halfway between curious and teasing. "Not that I'm complaining, mind..."

Jenny lifted an eyebrow, attempted to reply in kind. "What, you mean I'm not allowed to jump you in the shower? Noted." 

Even to her own ears, it sounded forced and Frank gave her look that let her know he wasn't going to let her get away with it. Not for the first time, Jenny wondered how come they'd been doing this for a relatively short space of time and yet he knew her so well. "You almost fainted," he reminded her, tone firmer now, more like the police captain he was and for once it didn't rankle with Jenny. 

"It's stupid," she said, and she meant it because the details were already starting to fade, disappear like so much mist in the morning. "But I... I had a dream."

Frank chuckled. "You should have dreams like that more often," he told her and she shook her head, knowing he'd misunderstood, hating that she was going to have to tell him the whole truth, wipe that beautiful smile off his face. 

"No," she said, looking down. "You died. And I know it was a dream but it seemed so real when I woke up..."

A gentle finger was placed under her chin and Frank moved her head up so that she could see him. The look that she saw there was so tender, so caring that it made tears swim in her eyes again and she hated herself for that. As gentle as his touch on her skin was the touch of his lips against hers, moving slowly and thoroughly, sending shivers down her spine. When he broke the kiss, he let his fingers tangle in her hair. "I'm here, Jenny," he told her and she would have felt stupid, like some little kid crying over monsters under her bed if it wasn't for the look in his eyes when he said it. No man had ever looked at her like that before and with the way her life had gone up to this point, she'd almost begun to think that no man ever would. "I'm here," he told her again. "And believe me... I have no intention of going anywhere." Another kiss, long and slow as his hand traced the shivers that were racing up and down her spine and then he pulled away,  a smile on his face that was decidedly apologetic. "Unless, of course, you count going into the city to see Macey."

He glanced at the bedside clock and she followed his gaze, made a face because he was going to be cutting it fine, no doubt about it. She stretched languidly, making sure to give him a glimpse of what he'd be missing. "I suppose if you're going to leave me for the day, that's a pretty good excuse," she teased as he sat up, and when he looked over at her, he was serious again but in a different way. 

"You could come too, you know."

The idea that he wanted her to spend time with his daughter should have freaked her out. 

It didn't. 

But she still shook her head. "The first time we met," she reminded him, "Macey thought we were dating. She didn't seem too pleased." If she was honest, defensive was more the word she was going for, which Jenny supposed was to be expected. 

"But we weren't dating."

"Then!" She said that with a laugh. "Do you think finding out she was right but early is going to make it easier?" Frank looked down and she knew he agreed. "You need to talk to her," she told him. "Let her get used to the idea."

"And then you'll meet her? Officially?" He lifted an eyebrow and it was almost like a challenge. Of course, Jenny never met a challenge she didn't like. 

"I'd love to."

*

Jenny spent her day in the archives, trawling through the records that Corbin had so meticulously kept. Which was kind of nerdy, she knew, but the way she looked on it, Corbin had spent years putting these records together, would have spent many more years doing so were it not for the Horseman's blade. Committing as much of it to memory as she possibly could was her way of honouring the man, of continuing his cause. 

Plus, most of the stuff she was reading was interesting as hell. 

Much as she was enjoying it, she cut her afternoon short, heading back to Frank's house to pull something together for dinner. Which she was pretty sure Abbie would give her hell over if - when - she heard about it, but Frank's house had a pretty kick ass kitchen and she hadn't been kidding in his office at Thanksgiving, she did know how to cook. It was a skill she'd picked up on her travels, being able to make something out of nothing and even if Frank didn't always approve of her choice of cuisine, his tastes veering to the more traditional, he was game enough to give her meals a try and usually ended up enjoying them. 

She was in the middle of pulling together a casserole - nice and traditional, one of Frank's favourites, because he'd been spending the day with his ex-wife and she knew exactly which buttons to press to get his dander up - when the front door opened. It took all her willpower not to reach for a kitchen knife, ready to use it as a weapon, because when a slam reverberated around the house, she knew it wasn't going to be anyone who was trying to break in and surprise her. Besides, she recognised the footfall as Frank's, and from the speed with which he moved, from the tread  of his steps, she knew he was agitated. 

She frowned because she'd seen him with Cynthia, had heard their history from Frank. The woman might know what buttons to press but she'd never got Frank that riled up before. Memories of their conversation that morning danced through Jenny's head, as did the image of Cynthia's face at Thanksgiving when she'd seen Jenny and Frank in his office together - Macey hadn't been the only one to jump to a premature conclusion. 

"What's wrong?" She was wiping off her hands on a towel when he walked in but he just shook his head, going straight to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer. He popped the top off against the marble counter and took a long pull from the bottle before he said anything. All of which had Jenny frowning, had the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. "Frank?"

Frank lowered the bottle, looked at her and then took another long drink. "Macey," he said, lips twisting into a grimace and Jenny's heart began to beat double time. Had he told Macey about them? Had her reaction been worse than they'd feared?

"Is she OK? Did something happen?"

"Oh, something happened all right... someone... something is threatening her." Frank ground out the words with what looked like great difficulty, like he couldn't believe he was saying the words, didn't want to say the words. 

Jenny approached him, taking the beer bottle from his hand and laying it on the counter. Closing her hand over his, she fought the urge to point out to him that it was freezing; more than likely, he already knew. "Come on," she said, leading him into the living room, keeping her voice level with difficulty. "Sit down with me and tell me everything."

They sat side by side on the couch and she didn't let go of his hands as he began to talk. "We were in the park," he told her. "Macey was admiring a dog, hitting me up for a puppy and when I refused, just like always, she hit me up for some ice cream. Which I gave in to, just like always. So I went to the vendor and when I was there, he was looking at Macey and something happened to him, to his eyes... he said she was a strong girl-"

As he spoke, Jenny's hands were growing colder and colder, the hairs on her neck standing ever more erect. She wanted to believe that it was the cold of his hands transferring to hers, that it was the story he was telling her, but it wasn't, not quite anyhow. She didn't even realise that she was thinking out loud until she heard her voice saying the words, "But is she strong enough to fight for her soul?"

Frank's jaw went slack, whatever colour left on his cheeks leeching away. "How did you know that?"

Jenny finally let go of his hands, standing on shaking legs. Her mind was whirling, heart now pounding at least triple time and she walked to the fireplace, stared at the picture on the mantelpiece of Frank and Macey together, Macey beaming into the camera and she winced as an image of that angelic face contorted by evil, flashed through her memory. Behind her, Frank said her name again and she turned slowly to face him. "We've had this conversation before," she told him, understanding the confusion that shot across his features, the same confusion she was feeling. 

"Jenny, I just got home..." he began and she laughed even though it was the furthest thing from funny. 

"I know that," she told him. "I know that, OK? And I know that this sounds crazy, and if you were about to ring Tarrytown and have them haul me away, I wouldn't blame you... but Frank... you've already told me that." She took a deep breath, leaped off the cliff. "In my dream."

"Your... dream." Frank drew out the words, his scepticism almost a living thing. "The same one where I died?"

An image of his broken, bleeding body danced across her vision and her stomach turned as her fingers tightened on the solid wood of the fireplace. "I know this sounds crazy," she told him. "It even sounds crazy to me. And it's hazy... fuzzy. But I remember this. I remember you telling me about Macey... I remember seeing her... in the archives... but it wasn't her, something had taken over her, was using her body..." 

Closing her eyes, a voice, deep and low, sounded in her head, a voice from not-Macey's face but definitely not her voice. "Jennifer Mills... seven years ago, I invaded you."

She gasped, opened her eyes as Frank's hands closed over hers. His brow was furrowed in what she knew to be concern but he was nodding. "You're right, this does sound crazy," he told her. "But since that appears to be our lives right about now, it kind of makes perfect sense." He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly, her head going onto his shoulder, closing her eyes in relief. 

"I've never had anyone believe me before." Again, she wasn't aware that she was speaking out loud but when his arms tightened around her, she knew she had.  

"Well, you never had me before." The words were quiet, sending shivers - the good kind - up her spine as one of his hands moved up and down her back, the other one resting on the back of her head. She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly before she straightened up, meeting his gaze. 

"Thank you."

He nodded once, cupping her face in his hands as he brushed his lips over hers. It was a quick kiss, albeit one that had her shivering, one that made her want more, even if she knew that this was neither the time nor the place. Pulling back, she closed her hands over his wrists, felt his pulse racing and it made her shiver again. "What can you tell me?" he asked. 

Tilting her head, she rolled her shoulders, trying to make sense of the images, trying to let them come. "It's a demon," she said slowly. "One that can possess people." Those words - "Seven years ago I invaded you" - rang in her head again, like she was hearing them for the first time and suddenly the pieces fell into place and she saw a face contorted by evil again, fuzzier this time, seen on a television screen in the middle of a nightmare. Not Macey's face this time though and she stiffened as the implication hit her, as the words she'd already remembered suddenly made sense. "One that possessed me."

Frank's eyes widened in surprise. "You?"

Jenny nodded. "Corbin... he was the one who helped me... saved me. He knew how to banish it..." That fuzzy memory came back to her, the view wider this time and she knew where she was in her dream. "There's a video recording in the archives."

"I'll drive." Frank was already heading for the front door before he'd uttered a word and Jenny wasn't far behind him. 

"I'll call Abbie and Crane, get them to meet us there," she told him, grabbing her cell phone as she walked. 

Predictably enough, she and Frank got to the archives first, Abbie having to go up to the cabin and collect Crane. When they arrived, Abbie got right to the point. "What's happened?"

Jenny looked at Frank, found him looking at her. "I went into the city today, took Macey out for ice cream... while we were there, she was threatened by a demon." 

Abbie nodded. "Do we know what type of demon?" She frowned when Frank shifted on his feet. 

"That," he said, "is where it gets interesting." 

A pointed look to Jenny gave her her cue and she wrapped her arms around her middle as she began to talk. "When I woke up this morning, it was from a dream. A nightmare. One where Frank had already told me about Macey being threatened. Where I saw her... here... being possessed. It had already killed people... it was trying to kill us. And there were other things..." She pinched her nose, tried to sort out the images. "I can't remember them all, but..."

"But one of them," Frank took up the tale, "was that I was killed."

Abbie's eyes were wider than Jenny had ever seen them, darting between Jenny and Frank as if she was waiting for the punchline. Crane, for his part, was remarkably stoic, an expression belied by his voice when he spoke. "So you are saying..." He spoke slowly, carefully, as if he was having trouble believing what he was hearing. "That Miss Jenny had a dream.... which foretold several events yet to transpire, most of which she cannot remember,  but the remembrances she does have indicated that things... were not going well for us."

Frank gave him a look. "If you mean my demise, I guess you could say that."

Crane looked chastened and it took every ounce of self possession Jenny had to remind him that a man currently two hundred years out of time should not be looking askance at anybody who was making the claims that she was making. She glanced at Abbie, who shook her head as she blew air between her lips. "To think," Abbie murmured, and Jenny got the feeling she was talking to herself more than anyone else, "I thought trying to get him into twentieth century fashion was as weird as my day was going to get."

Knowing things were about to get worse for her sister, Jenny sent a mental apology her way. "There's a recording," she said, "of the same demon that's threatening Macey, possessing someone else. Corbin recorded it at the cabin, kept it here." As expected, Abbie's eyes moved around the room, narrowing down the list of locations. Before she could move to look for it though, Jenny felt Frank's hand close over hers, like he knew she needed the support. "Before you look for it, you should know... the person possessed? Is me."

"You?" Abbie's jaw dropped and she took a step towards Jenny like she wanted to hug her. Jenny took a step back, trying not to notice the flash of hurt that crossed her face. "OK," she said, her fingers beating a tattoo against her leg. "Let's find this recording."

With four of them looking, it didn't take long and as Abbie slid the disc into the computer, Frank's hand once again found Jenny's. "You ready for this?" he murmured and she glanced up at him, shook her head. 

"No."

Not privy to this conversation, Abbie pressed play and Jenny's throat tightened as the familiar and much-missed face of August Corbin filled the screen. A roaring filled her ears and she missed the start of what he was saying, the words "a nineteen year old woman who attempted to break into my cabin," being the first to register with her. "I subdued her... she's not herself. I've known her for a couple of years and while she's troubled, she's not herself. The demon comes and goes, has taken her over and she has become violent... I'm not sure either of us will survive."

The camera moved then, panned to a figure with her head down, long dark curls obscuring her face. Then suddenly, the figure's head whipped up and Jenny found herself staring into a face that was her own and yet not her own, a face changed by rage, by evil, eyes an unnatural shade of yellow. Once again, a roaring filled her ears and when it cleared, her demon self was speaking. "This vessel was chosen. She has been marked."

That voice was the one she remembered from her dream and she shivered as she heard Corbin say, "Why? Who are you? Name yourself."

"You are worthless. Stay away," the demon mocked. As Corbin held up an amulet, the demon hissed. "You think that will protect you? That trinket? Your faith? Truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed..." Then there was a terrible guttural language, one Jenny didn't recognise before it continued, "You will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there. The mountain will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.' The war will come, and you will be among its first casualties. You will die, August Corbin, at the hands of the Horseman of Death." Frank's hand tightened on Jenny's and she was dimly aware that her breath was coming in shallow gasps. "And I will kill the sister."

Corbin's voice sounded as surprised as Jenny felt. "Jenny's sister?"

"Must die," confirmed the demon. "I will kill her. I will kill Abbie."

Suddenly the screen went black and Jenny was as surprised as anyone to find that her finger was the one that was on the control. She was shaking from head to foot and when she wheeled around to the three other people in the room, Abbie was the first one who spoke. "You never told me," she said and Jenny shrugged. 

"Well, we weren't exactly besties back then." Jenny was already heading for the door. 

"You were possessed by a demon," Abbie called after her. "I could have done something."

"At what point in the last seven years would you have believed me if  I told you?" Jenny had the strangest sense of deja vu and she shook her head, pressing her hands to her temples. "Look, I need some air."

She didn't look left or right as she headed for the exit, didn't stop to look around her until she hit the street, the chill of the evening air hitting her, making her wrap her arms around herself. She wished suddenly that she'd driven because then she could have sought refuge in her car, used it to escape which would have been even better. But Frank had driven to the station - wild horses wouldn't have dragged him to the passenger seat - and the keys to his car were currently in his jacket pocket. For the want of anything better to do, she walked until she found a bench, one of those benches that the town bigwigs had put around the place to improve the look of the neighbourhood but that Frank swore were a magnet for anti-social behaviour. She didn't have an opinion one way or the other usually but she was grateful for it tonight, sank down onto it and put her elbows on her knees, covered her face with her hands. 

She heard footsteps approaching, but she didn't look up, didn't look around because she knew who they belonged to, just like she had earlier on. The bench creaked as Frank sat down beside her and when she still didn't look up, he didn't touch her, stayed seated a respectable distance away from her. Not too far away though; that wasn't his style. Instead, when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "If you're thinking of running away, I have a whole sheriff's department I can deploy to look for you."

She snickered without any real humour, lifted her head but didn't look at him, didn't move her eyes from front and centre. "Yeah, 'cause that's not an abuse of your powers or anything."

Frank didn't sound like he was the slightest bit affected by her objection. "I could give them a reason," he said, calmly as if he was merely discussing the weather. Which piqued her interest, had her turning her head towards him, which she knew was his plan all along. 

Still, she went along with it, raising an eyebrow and doing her best to stare him down. It was harder than she thought when she felt a small smile trying to tug at the edge of her lips. "And what would that be?" 

"Theft," he replied promptly and at that, she blinked, raised two eyebrows. In response he grinned, reached over and took her hand in his. "You've been stealing my heart for weeks now."

Just like that, she found herself laughing. "Your lines are actually getting worse," she informed him, shaking her head, but he just shrugged, supremely unconcerned. 

Lacing their fingers together, he held them up as if to observe them better. "I don't know... got me a laugh. Got me you." He lifted their hands to his lips, kissed her knuckles. "I don't think I'm doing so bad."

Jenny sighed as she tilted her head back, looked at the stars. "You're not."

"So... you want to tell me why you're running away?"   Jenny pressed her lips together and when she didn't speak, he continued with, "I mean... I can probably guess why. But I think you need to talk about it."

If anyone other than Frank had spoken to her like that, Jenny probably would have hauled off and punched them. Truth be told, she was half tempted, and it would be so much easier. But his hand was warm in hers, her gaze warm on her face and she heard the words before she was even aware that she'd decided to speak. "I never wanted anyone to see that tape. I never wanted to see that tape... and Corbin, he said it was better that way."

Frank nodded. "He just might have been right." His eyes were far away suddenly and she knew he was remembering what they'd just seen. "When did it start?" 

"Not long after we saw Moloch in the woods. I'd have these spells where I'd lose time, wake up somewhere no idea how I'd gotten there. People would tell me about all the things I'd said and done, terrible things... unforgivable things..." Faces danced at the edge of her field of vision, angry and accusing, the terrible words they'd reported ringing in her ears. "They assumed I was another troubled kid and wrote me off..."  His fingers tightened on her hand and she ducked her head, taking a deep breath, readying herself to admit something she'd never told anyone. 

"Even after it was gone I'd have these thoughts about Abbie." She felt him freeze, started talking faster. "I didn't know why but I couldn't trust myself.  So I'd break a law of two... get locked up whenever I heard the voices." 

"You mean..." Frank's voice was slow, as if he was trying to make sure he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. "You would get yourself locked up on purpose... so you wouldn't hurt your sister."

Jenny nodded, lips trembling even when they were pressed together. "It was the only way I could keep her safe from me," she whispered. "You must think I'm terrible."

"Jenny..." Frank reached out his free hand, turned her head so that she was facing him. His thumb swept up and down her cheek and there was a smile on his face. "I think you're the most amazing woman I've ever met."

He was so obviously sincere that she actually couldn't believe it, had never thought that that was the reaction she'd get if she ever bared her soul to someone like that. "I don't feel amazing... I feel terrified," she told him, shaking her head. "You have no idea what it's like... this demon used me to do its bidding... even when it wasn't inside me, I had this sick feeling it was coming back... and now it has..." She drew in a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "And it's worse than I ever thought it would be, because it's not after me... it's after you and Macey..."

Her throat closed on the words but Frank seemed to know what she was going to say. "And you'd rather it was going after you instead of people you care about."

Jenny nodded, knowing it was as close to an admission of her feelings as she'd ever given anyone.  "I keep seeing flashes... scenes from my dream..." Her stomach twisted and Frank shifted closer to her on the bench, let go of her hand to pull her into his arms. She let herself fall, knowing he'd catch her, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. 

"Listen to me, Jenny," he told her quietly, one hand moving up and down her back, the other in her hair. "Seven years ago, you were up against this thing on your own... that's not true any more. Your sister would walk through fire for you... and no matter what happens, I promise, I'm here too. You're not alone any more."

Jenny pressed her lips together, squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden onslaught of tears. "What if it's not enough?" she heard herself whisper and his grip tightened on her shoulders. 

"It will  be." He had more confidence in her than she did in herself and she sucked in a deep breath, concentrating on pulling herself together, doing what needed to be done. 

"We need to go back inside," she said, lifting her head from his shoulder and standing up. "There must be something on that tape that we can use to find this thing..."

"You don't have to-"

"Yes." She interrupted him, nodding firmly. "I do."

He stood up, took her hand once again in his. "Let's go."

When they walked back into the archives, still hand in hand, Crane and Abbie were standing close together, serious expressions on both their faces, but the computer screen was mercifully dark. When Abbie saw her and Frank, their joined hands made her blink but she recovered herself quickly, crossing the floor to hug Jenny. Frank dropped her hand just in time and Jenny felt the loss of it immediately but when it came to comfort, Abbie's hug was a close second. "We didn't look at the rest of the tape," Abbie told her as she let her go and Crane stepped closer to them, nodding his confirmation. 

"We each felt that it would be an invasion of your privacy to look any further without your express permission." 

Jenny gave him a small, tight smile of thanks. "Let's look at it again," she said. "All the way through this time." 

Abbie's hands gripped her shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"No." The word was half serious, half nervous giggle. "But if this thing is going after Macey and I can stop it? We need to see this tape."

Abbie nodded. "Then we do it the way we used to do everything when things got rough. Together."  One of her hands closed over Jenny's, while the other pressed play, and as the screen flickered to life, Jenny felt Frank take her other hand. They watched the tape the whole way through, once and then twice and it was during the second viewing that Crane pressed pause, pointed to something on the screen. 

"Look... this white substance on the floor... what is that?"

Jenny closed her eyes, thought back seven years. "Salt," she said, opening her eyes. "I woke up and it was all around me and Corbin was there..." She shook her head. "I'd forgotten about that."

Crane frowns. "Why would there be salt on the ground?"

"Salt repels demons. " Three pairs of eyes turned to Frank, possibly the last person that anyone would have expected to have that knowledge and when Jenny glanced over at Crane and Abbie, she saw the disbelief she felt mirrored on their faces. 

"And you know this, how?" Abbie crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her head, and Frank shrugged. 

"It was in some show Macey was mainlining on DVD a couple months ago when she came to visit," he told them. "A pair of demon hunting brothers..." He shrugged, ran a hand over his face. "At the time, I thought she was too young to be watching something like that... now I'm thinking of hitting her up for the DVDs." 

He wasn't playing it for laughs, was being completely serious and maybe that was what made Jenny snort with laughter. Pressing her lips together she tried to stifle her giggles, a task made no easier by the fact that Crane was looking from her to Frank to Abbie with complete bafflement stamped all over his features, while Abbie's lips were twitching.  "Can you play it back?" she asked, because there was something dancing at the edge of her memory. "There's something about the audio..."

Crane looked completely befuddled and Abbie took pity on him, winding back the track and pressing play. "There," Jenny said, pointing to the screen. "That language... what is it?"

"I do not recognise it," Crane said. "Perhaps a dialect..."

"Maybe we need to listen to it in reverse." Abbie was half joking but the words triggered a memory in Jenny. 

"Do it."

Perhaps it was the urgency with which she spoke but Abbie did as she was told, pressing a series of buttons and playing the audio backwards on a loop. Jenny saw Crane's face change. "That's Ancient Aramaic," he said slowly. "Ancitif cannot be defeated."

"Ancitif." Frank rolled the name around slowly on his tongue as Jenny barely repressed a shudder. "So that's who we're looking for."

Abbie had already sprung into action, going to a shelf of books and pulling one out. Flicking through the pages, she paused when she came to one particular picture, jabbing her finger at it triumphantly. "A powerful demon that has been known to jump between bodies on contact." 

"That explains why it kept coming and going," Jenny murmured.

Frank's jaw was set. "And why the ice cream vendor swore he hadn't said anything to me." 

Abbie glanced between them before she continued reading. "First cited in 1647, when it possessed a group of Catholic nuns... known to be a leader of a legion of Moloch's minions... fabled to have been sent to destroy disciples." 

"So how did the nuns defeat this thing?" Irving craned his neck to try to read the text and Abbie didn't waste any time reading the next part. 

"Apparently using a blessed lantern from the cathedral."

Crane took up the tale. "And the Lord's light shone true and unmasked the wretched creature. Cast from his vessel and unable to cloak his true face, he was delivered back into hell."

"So..." Frank tilted his head, considered. "A French lantern from the time of Louis the Fourteenth casts out the demon from its host. Where do we get one of those?" 

"I recognise this." Crane pointed to the lantern in the picture. "Several were given to Benjamin Franklin on one of his diplomatic missions for the war effort. The French had allied with the patriots in 1778, supplying munitions... and apparently, services for demonic exorcism." His lips twisted. 

"I've seen it too." Frank's head whipped around to Jenny as she spoke. 

"Where?" Abbie asked. 

Jenny shifted on her feet. "Let's just say I know of one that's still in the hands of patriots..." She glanced at Crane. "Just not exactly the kind that you're familiar with."

"Can you get it?" Frank's voice was low, urgent, and Jenny didn't blink. 

"I can get it." She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "But how are we going to find Ancitif? It could be anywhere... in anyone."

Abbie nodded. "Remember, we have one advantage. We know what this thing is planning... and depending on what you remember, we could know more than that." She looked at Frank. "You said the ice cream vendor didn't remember anything... so the demon must have jumped into someone else."

"There was a woman..." Frank reached into his pocket, pulled out a little notebook and consulted it. "Helen Beyer. She said she saw what happened, that she was right there..."

"So presumably..." Jenny got the drift. "Ancitif jumped into her, insinuated itself into the investigation." Frank looked at her, surprised, and she shrugged. "What? I watch CSI, this sort of thing happens all the time." 

She knew Frank well enough to know that he was about an inch away from rolling his eyes. "I swear, if I see you starting to wear sunglasses indoors..." They shared a smile, a brief moment of levity because Frank had watched some of those CSIs with her on late night repeats when she had it on for background noise. His acerbic comments on the procedural miscues were often more entertaining than the episodes themselves. 

"So what's your play?" Abbie's voice brought them back to reality and Frank blinked at her, seemingly not understanding. "If we weren't here, having this conversation... if we didn't know what we know. What would your play be?"

"Polygraph the vendor... call Helen Beyer, get her here, talk to her, see what she knows." 

"So let's do that. Let's let it play out just the way Ancitif thinks we're going to. And when we know what he's looking for, we lure him somewhere, we have the lantern ready, and boom." 

"Boom?" Crane looked confused and Abbie didn't blink when she looked over at him. 

"Boom."

*

The plan made, the two couples went their separate ways; Abbie bringing Crane back to Corbin's cabin, Jenny and Frank heading back to his house. Neither of them spoke on the way there and when they arrived, Jenny went right to the bedroom, stripping off her clothes and reaching for her pyjamas. She stopped mid-reach, instead turning on her heel and walking over to the closet, pulling one of Frank's shirts from the hanger and slipping it on. She was doing up the buttons when the door opened and Frank walked in, holding two glasses in his hands, a generous serving of whiskey in each. 

"I think we could both do with this," he said, handing her a glass and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. 

"I'll drink to that," she said, clinking her glass against his and taking a small sip. "Thank you," she said then, dropping her gaze. "And I don't just mean for the drink."

"You're welcome. For both." He reached out with his free hand, touching her cheek, running his thumb up and down and she leaned into his touch like a cat, her eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. His hand moved from her cheek down to her neck and then, to her surprise, she felt a tug at the collar of her shirt. "So what... first you steal my heart, now you're stealing my shirts?"

Jenny smiled as the tone of his voice, even though she could hear that he was forcing it, brought her back to more solid ground. "You like me in your shirts." A beat, then her best saucy look, even if her heart wasn't really in it. "You gonna arrest me now?"

"I'm sure I have some handcuffs somewhere..." He nuzzled into her neck, but she knew him well enough to know that there was no real intent there. "If you're into that sort of thing..."

She turned her head towards him, met his lips with her own but the kiss was a brief one, nowhere near the passion they usually shared. He must have felt it too because he pulled back, rested his forehead against hers. "We're not gonna sleep much tonight," she guessed, and when he gave her a knowing look, she amended, "and not in a good way."

He took another sip of his drink. "No." Shaking his head, he sat down on the bed, put the glass down on the bedside table. She sat down beside him, put her glass down beside his and covered his hand with hers. "I can't believe," he said, shaking his head, "that it was this morning you scared the hell out of me in the bathroom. This day seems like it's been a hundred years long." 

Jenny nodded, swallowed hard. "I'm scared." She spoke quietly, because she wasn't used to admitting something like that to anyone; she'd learned a long time ago not to show weakness. He knew it too, turning his head sharply to look at her, turning his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together, just like he had earlier on. "I don't know why this is happening... what it all means..." She sucked in a deep breath. "What if this is some sort of trick, some demon trying to fool us? What if..." She paused, suddenly unable to voice her deepest fear. 

"What if what?" Frank's voice was soft, infinitely gentle. "Jenny, you know you can tell me anything."

"I spent years in and out of Tarrytown," she whispered finally and his hand tightened on hers. She thought he'd guessed where she was going with this, but he waited for her to say the words. "What if this is me really going crazy?"

He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight and she didn't realise how much she needed him to do that until her head was buried in his neck. "You are not going crazy, you hear me?" His whisper was fierce, almost angry. "Jenny, everything we've been through these last few hours, the things you know..." He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. "I don't know why this is happening to us. But it is real. And you are not in this alone. I've told you that already today... and I'm going to keep telling you that, as many times as you need to hear it, until you believe it. That OK with you?"

Pressing her lips together to keep back a sob, Jenny nodded. 

Then he kissed her and it was much like that morning when need overtook her and she couldn't get close enough to him. But he was the one who pushed up the shirt she was wearing, so she thought he might just be feeling the same need. 

Besides, neither of them was going to sleep any time soon, and this sure beat staring at the ceiling. 

*

The next morning, Frank went off to the station, business as usual. The ice cream vendor was going to be there first thing and Frank had two of his best officers, Luke Morales and Devon Jones in on the case with him, knowing he couldn't go it alone. Jenny watched him leave, a sick feeling in her stomach, having exacted a promise from him that he'd call when Ancitif made contact with him. 

She stayed behind long enough to put her hair into some semblance of order, steal another cup of coffee from Frank's kick ass coffee machine, then she went to the archives where Abbie was already waiting for her. 

"You're sure these patriots have the lantern?" Abbie asked her, just to be sure, and Jenny looked at the picture again, although it had already danced through her nightmares a few times the previous night.  

"I'm sure. Though when I said patriots, you might have gotten the wrong idea..."

Abbie's lips quirked in something almost like a smile. "Let me guess... more like militia?"

"More like end of the world survivalists, but yeah, militia will do. They don't trust anyone easily... I trained with them a while back but even at that..."

"So what, we need to break in?"

Jenny was about to say yes, because that would have been her first play. But then she looked at Abbie and the world seemed to shimmer around them for a moment and she could see Abbie and Crane in the dead of night, lantern in hand, the Weavers surrounding them, pointing guns at them. She could see the whole scene from above and she realised with a start that it was because she was standing on something looking down on them, two guns in her own hands as she met Abbie's eyes. "You're better at breaking in," she heard her own voice say. "But I'm better at breaking out."

"Jenny!" 

Abbie's hand on her arm brought her back to reality, and from the tone of her sister's voice, the alarmed look on her face, it wasn't the first time she'd said her name. "I'm OK," she heard herself saying, and Abbie didn't look convinced. 

"Where'd you go?" 

"It was like when I woke up yesterday morning," Jenny told her. "The dream... Almost like a memory of something that hasn't happened yet. This time it was of getting the lantern from the Weavers."

Abbie reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. "If that's how you looked yesterday morning, I know why Irving was so rattled last night."

"Frank wasn't rattled," Jenny protested because she'd been in the archives just like Abbie was and Frank had been anything but. Focussed, yes. Rattled, no. 

In return, Abbie simply lifted one eyebrow. "You didn't see him when he left here to go after you." She shook her head. "The look on his face when you weren't looking at him... he was rattled, Jenny. And I don't think it's only because this thing threatened Macey."

Her implication was obvious and Jenny lifted an eyebrow of her own. "Now is the time you choose to have this discussion with me?" Because she'd been expecting it since Thanksgiving really but she would have thought that they had other things to worry about today. 

Abbie held up her hands. "Jenny, believe me, I could go my whole life without ever hearing about how you're sleeping with my boss." She dropped her hands, dropped into a chair, pushed a second one out with her toe. "But you're not just sleeping with him, are you?" 

Jenny's first impulse was to deny it, she even opened her mouth to do just that. Then a memory of her dream came back to her, the sight of Frank's body, broken and bleeding on ground. It made her shudder, even now, made her stomach turn and the chair Abbie had offered her seemed like a very good idea. "If you'd asked me that two days ago, I'd have told you that's all we were doing. Two adults, having a good time." She bit her thumbnail, pretending not to notice that Abbie was halfway between concerned and completely grossed out. "And then I woke up and Abbie, it was so real. I knew he was dead, I'd seen him..." She flexed her hands, suddenly remembering the smooth wood of a spade handle. "Buried him... and my heart..." She shook her head. "I hadn't felt a pain like that since we buried Mama."

Her vision blurred but Abbie's hand was suddenly warm in hers. "For what it's worth?" she said, "Irving doesn't exactly strike me as the 'just having fun' type." Which struck Jenny as funny somehow and she giggled as she swiped at her eyes. "He's a good man," Abbie continued. "I suppose you could do worse." 

That did make Jenny laugh because she could and she had in the past. She also knew it was as close to a blessing as Abbie was ever going to give her, and not that she needed her sister's approval, she'd gone without it for long enough, but she couldn't deny it was nice to have. "Thanks," she said. "I think."

Abbie grinned, squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it and standing up. "Right... so, we have a lantern to steal. How do we break in?"

Jenny tilted her head, going back over the recent memory. "Call me crazy... but we might not have to." 

Abbie didn't call her crazy in words, though her look made up for it, a look that Crane shared when they picked him up at the cabin en route. It was Jenny who had the last laugh though, walking right up to the front door of the Weavers' homestead and stating their case to them. "A young girl is being threatened; your lantern is the only thing that can save her," she finished. "It won't be damaged and we'll bring it back as soon as we're done with it." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Abbie frowning, could almost see her finger itching for her gun. Which was probably something to do with the amount of guns pointed at them, a common feature to her earlier memory. "You know me, Chase. You know I keep my word."

Chase looked her up and down and she tried not to shift on her feet at what she saw in her eyes. After what seemed an age, he grinned. "I never could say no to you," he told her, jerking his chin towards one of his sons who disappeared and came back with the lantern. 

When they got back to the car, Crane was the first to speak. "I must admit, Miss Jenny, that I had assumed we would be employing rather more clandestine efforts to obtain the lantern." 

Abbie snorted as she turned the key in the ignition. "Who knew that charm was all that was needed?" She glanced over her shoulder at Jenny, lifting one eyebrow. "'I never could say no to you'?"

It was a cross between a question and a statement of disbelief. Jenny chose to take it as the former. "What can I say? I've always had a thing for older men." She kept her face as straight as possible which was hard to do when Abbie's shudder was actually visible. 

"Jenny," she said flatly, "I said you could do worse than Irving. I didn't need you to prove it." 

Jenny just shrugged, allowed a smile to cross her lips. Crane just looked mystified, opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, Jenny's phone rang. "It's Frank," she said, pressing the speaker button. "Hey, you're on speaker," she said. "We got the lantern."

"Finally, some good news." Frank's voice was terse, reminding Jenny of the first time they'd met, a corridor in the sheriff's station, mutual distrust on either side. If she'd been told then what was going to happen between the two of them, she'd never have believed it. 

"What happened?" Abbie was all business. 

"The ice cream vendor was a dead end," Frank told them. "Then I got a call from inside the police station... Same voice, same threat. And when I looked up at the ceiling, there was writing in blood on it, which of course disappeared when I looked again. It said 'The Bible' - that mean what I think it means?" 

Jenny was at a loss but Abbie and Crane exchanged a glance. "Washington's bible," Crane murmured. 

"Which is safe and sound in the archives," Abbie continued. 

"This thing wants it by nightfall or it takes Macey." Even through the cell phone line, Jenny could hear the fear in his voice. 

"Macey is safe," she reminded him, knowing that the girl was in the city with her mother, both of them blissfully unaware of what was going on. That said, Frank had called in a couple of favours at his old precinct, spinning a story about someone threatening his family as revenge on him. There were plain clothes detectives keeping an eye on the house, another set outside Macey's school, who had also been apprised of the situation while also letting them know of the need for secrecy. "And she's going to stay that way. Nightfall gives us more than enough time to mount a trap."

"When this thing calls you again, get it to the archives," Abbie instructed, and Jenny knew her sister well enough to know that she was already formulating a plan. Which was fine with Jenny; she was distracted by trying to remember as much of her dream as possible, and Frank's nerves were apparently more than a little contagious.  "We'll be ready," Abbie continued, and if she stepped on the gas when she said it, Jenny knew better than to comment. 

*

Jenny spent most of the rest of the day in the archives, preparing the trap, Crane at her side. Abbie divided her time between the archives and the station, trying to keep up appearances, just in case anyone was looking at them. When her shift ended she came to the archives through the tunnels, just as Jenny's phone rang once, then again before cutting off. A glance at the caller ID told Jenny that it had been Frank, their usual signal - any time he was on his way home from the station, he would call her cell, let it ring twice before hanging up. She took a deep breath before nodding to Abbie and Crane and they took up their agreed positions. 

The door to the archive swung open and Frank walked in, a tall blond man beside him that Jenny recognised instantly as Devon Jones. Beside her, Abbie sucked in a sharp but quiet breath, biting her lip. "Luke's partner," she mouthed and Jenny's heart sank as she realised the implication - all of the officers in the sheriff's department were friendly, but if this was the partner of Abbie's ex, then it was a sure bet that Abbie and he knew one another well. As they watched, Frank walked to the cabinet where the Bible had been stored, spreading his hands as he saw the empty space. "It was here," he said, and Devon's face twisted horribly. 

"I'm up," Jenny said quietly to Abbie, emerging from her hiding place. As if he sensed her presence, Devon turned and stared at her, an evil smile lighting his features. 

"Jennifer Mills." The voice was like nails on chalkboard and it took every scrap of Jenny's willpower not to turn around and run. "Seven years ago, I invaded you."

The room blurred, Devon's features turning to Macey's and turning back again and Jenny steeled herself, willing her voice not to shake. "That was a long time ago," she said. "This is a new day." Her eyes met Frank's briefly and she fancied she could see his lips turning up in the faintest smile of acknowledgement. That look was enough to make her feel better, make her stand up a little straighter even as Devon's - Ancitif's, she reminded herself - lips curled in contempt. 

"Where is your sister?" The barb hit home and Jenny clenched her hands, even as Abbie stepped up to stand beside her. "It must be so hard to see her, knowing for so long you wanted her dead... or do you still have evil thoughts?"

When Abbie spoke, her voice was full of disdain. "She got rid of you once," she said and her voice did not wobble in the slightest. "And now, we're going to send you back to hell again."

Ancitif laughed and Jenny knew that sound, heard it in her worst nightmares. "I know you feel it." Ancitif's voice was smooth, silky, as much as it could be. "The darkness within your soul, whispering in your ear, telling you you must kill your sister..." As it spoke, Ancitif stepped closer and closer to the sisters and they held their ground.

Until Ancitif screamed as in in agony and could go no further. 

"Salt line." Abbie didn't bother to hide the triumph in her voice. "You can't touch us."

Just then, Crane appeared, lantern held aloft in his hand as he said, "And the Lord's light shone true and unmasked the wicked creature!" Ancitif screamed another terrible scream, one that was worse than nails on chalkboard and a golden light suffused Devon's body. There was another scream and then there was a stream of light heading towards the lantern and when it was gone, Devon collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. 

"Captain?" he asked, looking up at Irving in confusion. "What happened? How did we get here?"

Irving walked over to him, helped him up. "It's a long story," he said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "I'll explain later." He looked around then, his eyes meeting Jenny's and Jenny suddenly felt tears coming into her eyes. 

"Hey, it's OK." Abbie must have seen the tears because she reached out, took her hand. "It's over."

"I know." Jenny pressed her lips together but she didn't resist when Abbie pulled her into a hug, one that Jenny had absolutely no trouble returning. When Abbie let her go, she squeezed Jenny's shoulders, tilting her head towards Frank. "Like I said," she murmured, so quietly that only Jenny could hear, "you could do worse."

The sisterly moment was so at odds with what they'd just been through that all Jenny could do was laugh. "Come on," Abbie said, gesturing to Devon. "Crane and I will fill you in." 

Devon looked curious but he didn't resist. Frank, on the other hand, didn't even wait until Abbie and Devon were out of sight before he walked forwards and took Jenny in his arms. "It's over," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And you were amazing."

This time, there was no hiding the admiration in his voice and that was what finally broke down Jenny's barriers and she began to cry. 

*

Even though they had won, there was no sense of victory. Jenny, once she finally stopped crying, was so emotionally wrung out that she just wanted to sleep, and she knew from Frank's expression that he was vacillating between relief that the threat against Macey was over and worry for her. He didn't question it when she walked into his house and straight up the stairs, stripping her clothes as she went, and considering Frank's picture was in the dictionary beside the phrase "neat freak," that told Jenny all she needed to know about just how worried he was. She heard his footsteps following behind her, felt his eyes on her as she went to his closet, grabbed a shirt and slipped it on before sliding into bed and  curling up under the covers. Sighing, he sat down beside her, on top of the covers, his hand on her hip, thumb sweeping up and down. "You should call Macey," she mumbled and he nodded, taking out his cell phone with his other hand, pressing the pre-set number one, a grin spreading over his face as Macey answered. 

They talked for a few minutes, about her day and how she was studying for a science quiz that could apparently get her into science camp for the summer, about her mom refusing to let her get a dog, a stance with which Frank seemed to be still in full agreement. Frank promised to see her at the weekend, meeting Jenny's eyes as he suggested it and she smiled and nodded, remembering their conversation of only the previous day - and how, Jenny wondered, could it only be yesterday that all this had started? 

When Frank hung up the phone, he threw it on the bedside cabinet, stood up and undid his tie, letting it fall to the floor, his suit and shirt following immediately after. Much to Jenny's surprise, he left them where they lay, climbing in beside her in his underwear and pulling her into his arms. "You're not gonna pick them up?" she asked, eyebrow raised teasingly and Frank chuckled. 

"Just once won't hurt," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Try to sleep, OK?"

Jenny actually snorted at that but she closed her eyes, expecting sleep to be a long time coming. 

To her surprise, she must have been more tired than she thought, because she did actually fall asleep quickly. 

And when she did, she dreamed. 

She dreamed of a visitor's room in a prison, Frank on the other side of plexiglass, her fingers separated from his by that thin layer, his voice, tinny in her ear, on the other end of the visitor's telephone. She dreamed of him angry, telling her he didn't want her to see him like this, sure as hell didn't want Macey to see him like this. She dreamed of tears slipping down her cheeks as she walked out and, on his instructions, didn't look back. 

She dreamed of Tarrytown, of Frank in that inmate's uniform she hated. "I may have sold my soul to the Horseman of War, but I am still in control of my actions," he told her and Abbie. "I even chose my own colour Jello for breakfast this morning."

She dreamed of her smiling. "It's a good sign."

She dreamed that he smiled back at her and her heart sped up and broke at the same time. 

She dreamed of being in a car on the way out of Tarrytown, a hooded figure stepping out onto the road and stopping them. She dreamed of Frank being under the hood, of him climbing into the boot behind her, of him in her car, of her urgent need to keep him safe, get him over the border. She dreamed of his voice in her ear, another phone call, "When I see you again, I hope it's in a better world."

She dreamed of him wielding a sword, dreamed of the sword cutting him down. 

Dreamed of coming back to the house that they had shared for all too brief a time. Dreamed of crying into his shirts, holding his pillow to her so that she could inhale his scent. 

Dreamed of the archives, of flipping through books  because there was nothing else for her to do. Of a book, old and handwritten, and a page that made her frown, then made her smile. 

Dreamed of a circle of light, shimmering and swirling in front of her, of stepping into it. 

She woke up with a gasp, heart pounding, cheeks wet. She stared into the darkness, trying to make sense of it, her head snapping to the side when the bedside light comes on. Frank's hand slid across her back, coming to rest on her shoulder with a squeeze.  "Another dream?"

Jenny nodded, eyes darting backwards and forwards, trying to process all the images, knowing one thing for sure. "I need to go to the archives."

To his credit, Frank didn't question her, just nodded and stood up, picking his clothes up from the floor and dressing quickly as she pulled a pair of jeans on with his shirt, grabbing a hoodie from the wardrobe as she walked past it. They drove in silence and when they got to the archives, he spoke. "You know what it is you're looking for?"

"I think so." Heading to the shelf she'd seen in her dream, Jenny ran her finger along the spines, stopping when she found one that looked familiar. "I've never looked here before," she said, more to herself than Frank as she pulled down the book. It was a journal, she realised as she opened it up, her heart hammering in her chest when she saw the name written inside. 

"Jane Dixon." Frank read it aloud from over her shoulder. "That mean something to you?"

Jenny nodded, her mind's eye showing her a family tree in another book. "She was Grace Dixon's sister."

"Grace." Frank was putting the pieces together. "Your ancestor... the one who was there when Crane's son was born."

Jenny turned the pages slowly, stopping when she found the one she was looking for. "I dreamed you were dead," she told him. "Tonight.... before we came here. But this time, it didn't stop there. I dreamed that I came here... found this book... this page." 

"A traveller spell..." Frank scanned the page but Jenny was quicker, reciting the spell out loud without even thinking about it. 

Which was not, she  realised, the cleverest thing she'd ever done because just like in her dream, a shimmering circle of light began to form in front of them. 

With a curse which would have stopped her speaking anyway, Frank grabbed the book from her hands, closing it loudly. For a moment, the only sounds Jenny could hear in the archives were their breathing, fast and harsh, and the beating of her own heart. "That spell..." Frank said slowly, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. "Does it do what I think it does?"

"Sends the caster back in time to a place of their choosing." Jenny reclaimed the book, opened it to the page again, reading it fully but silently. "It says the spell may not be correct... that certain words may have been altered in the telling..." 

"But in your dream..."

"I cast it." Jenny's eyes locked on his. "I cast it, the portal appeared and I went through... and then I woke up."

"Yesterday morning." There was dawning amazement in Frank's eyes and he took the book from her, slid it into its place on the shelf. That done, he took her hands in both of his. "You cast that spell... you rewrote time.... to save me."

Jenny felt her cheeks flush scarlet, even as a smile fought its way across her face. There were so many things she wanted to say but suddenly she couldn't speak past the lump in her throat so she just nodded. The movement loosed the tears that were standing in her eyes and Frank cupped her face in his hands, wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. "I was right earlier on," he told her. "You are amazing."

He leaned down then, brought his lips to her and kissed her. Winding her arms around his neck, Jenny hung on for dear life, pulling him close, knowing that it didn't matter that she couldn't speak, because he knew everything she was going to say anyway and, even if he didn't, now they had all the time in the world for her to say them. 

She could live with that. 

And most importantly, so would he. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for' Another Time Around the Wheell'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184652) by [stormbrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbrite/pseuds/stormbrite)




End file.
